


This is Not Our Fate

by AndyAO3



Series: somewhere (there's a place for us) [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, No One is Happy and Everything Hurts, Past Relationship(s), they have a big ol' FIGHT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3
Summary: Knowing it's only a matter of time until Overwatch falls apart around them, Gabriel finally confronts Jack on what went wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'mma say it: Jack was fighting a losing battle from the start. Gabriel's been one of the few things keeping that ship afloat, along with Ana and a good dose of wishful thinking as spackle. Now she's gone and the wishful thinking's gone with her. 
> 
> these two are miserable pls i want to wrap them up in blankets and tell them everything is going to be okay because IT WILL BE but it will take a LONG-ASS TIME also this takes place DIRECTLY after the McCree confrontation which you can find at this link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8708602
> 
> sorry I wrote a sad thing again. title comes from All Along the Watchtower, because it was either that or Komm, Susser Tod and I'm trying to save that for the actual explosion

The act of writing up McCree's papers took almost no time at all, Gabriel running on autopilot as he filled in most of the blanks himself. Just before the kid had a chance to leave, Gabriel caught up with him one last time to have him sign them, watching the pen jerk and stutter in McCree's unsteady hands.

"I guess that's it then, huh?" he'd said as he handed the papers back, looking like he was about to cry; more like the scrawny seventeen-year-old Gabriel had picked up all those years ago than the hardass sharpshooter he'd grown up to be, sniffling and refusing to make eye contact.

That was the image that stuck with him when he finally ended up at Jack's office again, those same papers in hand. Not bothering with secretaries or appointments, he pressed the intercom button by the door and waited. And waited, and waited. Just as annoyance and impatience started to prickle at the back of Gabriel's mind, though, a voice came over the speaker:

" _It's open, Reyes._ "

Gabriel rolled his eyes and hit the button to open the door, stepping inside. He didn't even flinch as it closed automatically behind him, sealing itself with a _click_.

Like a king on his throne, there was Jack. One elbow leaned onto an armrest of his plush chair, his face resting on the upturned palm of his hand. His jaw was still bruised from their confrontation the other day, his nose discolored and swollen. His hair was thinning, almost more white than gold. He looked like he hadn't slept or shaved in a while, and he'd lost enough weight for his cheekbones to stand out. He stared right at Gabriel with those heavy-lidded eyes, resigned. Defeated.

Schooling his expression, Gabriel stepped up to his desk and dropped the papers onto it with a soft _plap_. "Here."

Jack didn't move much, leaning forward only just enough to reach out with his free hand and pluck the papers off of his desk. "Another report?"

"No," Gabriel said. "McCree's resignation."

The Strike-Commander froze for a moment, glancing between Gabriel and the papers. "I wasn't aware that was an option for him," he said slowly.

"He's not a fucking prisoner, Jack. I think he's done more than enough good work to make up for Deadlock."

"Did he say why?"

"Yeah."

Jack's eyes were the only thing that moved, darting up to look at him sharply. "Are you gonna tell me?"

"I think we both know why he'd wanna leave at this point," Gabriel replied, not bothering to hide his bitterness.

"So is this your way of saying you'll be following him?"

Gabriel wanted to. Fuck, did he want to. Part of him didn't think McCree would last five minutes on his own, and that wasn't even getting into Gabriel's own reasons for leaving beyond that. Over the past couple of years he'd come up with a lot of them. But he also knew that it wasn't about what he wanted. "And let this shitshow come crumbling down around your ears? The moment I'm gone, Overwatch goes with me. I'm the only thing holding this operation together."

"Watch your tone, Reyes," Jack said, but it lacked vitriol. Hell, it lacked just about everything. There was no fondness, no teasing, no anger, no insult. Like Jack didn't feel anything.

It pissed Gabriel the hell off. "You could at least act like it means something to you."

"Which part?"

"All of it. Any of it. Fucking _Christ_ , Jack. He was one of your best agents too, remember? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure McCree is the only reason that gambit with Shimada actually worked instead of turning into a bloodbath. And don't get me started on how many joint missions hinged on his performance as a sharpshooter. I could probably come up with an annotated list."

Jack sighed. "What do you want from me, Reyes?"

 _Reyes_. Not Gabriel, not Gabe, not anything soft or understanding or affectionate or-- "I want you to fucking listen to me for once," he said, pushing aside the personal aspect for the time being. "Overwatch is dying, Jack. Ops are going bad left and right, we've got leaks everywhere, our people are going out on routine missions or doing things as simple as going to the fucking store after work and ending up dead or MIA. We're having to pull more and more skeevy shit out of our asses just to stay afloat, and the UN's been looking for excuses to dismantle us for so long that any moment now, the other shoe's gonna drop and it's gonna come crashing down."

"It's under control."

"Like hell it is!" Gabriel snapped. Jack didn't even flinch. "Ana is _dead_ , Jack. Is that not enough evidence for you? That one of the best snipers in the world got picked off like a flailing rookie? That her unit was forced to retreat because they were in over their heads and dropping like flies?"

"That's my problem, not Overwatch's."

"How can your head be jammed so far up your ass about this--"

"Because it doesn't _matter!_ " Jack's fist slammed down on his desk on the last syllable, an outburst of snarling pent-up anger that momentarily cut through Gabriel's own. "Overwatch _needs_ to exist, Reyes! The people need something to look up to-- we _agreed_ it needed to keep going, no matter what! 'The world could always use more heroes', remember that?"

"And that's exactly the kind of blindly optimistic garbage that gives people like Talon a way in and allows them to get away with ambushing or demoralizing our best fucking people," Gabriel replied, tapping a finger on Jack's desk. "Either stop pulling this 'not in my backyard' bullshit and admit this organization's corrupt, or--"

"Or what?" Jack challenged him. "You'll leave? Go vigilante so you can circumvent the law? You already admitted you won't."

Gabriel snarled, caught in the emptiness of his threat.

"I agree with you, Gabe," Jack said. "The UN is breathing down our necks now more than ever. That's why we can't be divided on this. We have to--"

"What did they tell you that made you leave her behind?" Gabriel asked suddenly. The way Jack recoiled, stricken, told him everything he needed to know. "Did they want Ana gone?"

Jack shuddered, looking away sharply; his eyes fell on the UN flag that stood next to the window and he was quick to shut them. "They-- they're looking at numbers," he admitted. "How many we lose, how much collateral, how much damage to infrastructure. It doesn't matter why one mission's chosen over another, how many lives we save, or what unforseen circumstances cause it to go south on us. We're fighting a losing battle; with the public, with Talon, with the media. Losing money, losing people. Ana knew that."

"So she turned off her comm." Gabriel watched as Jack stood, turned towards the window, stood at parade rest as he surveyed the Swiss countryside below. A much better view than Gabriel's office had; a much less strategic view, too. "She was trying to keep you from getting hit with too much of the blowback by shouldering the blame in case shit hit the fan. Which it did."

"You know I didn't ask her to do that."

"No. But you didn't fucking stop her either, did you?" Another visible twinge of guilt; Gabriel knew he was hitting the mark. "You self-serving son of a bitch."

"Gabe..."

"Did you even tell Fareeha? Does she know? Or were you too chickenshit to risk having to hear what she'd have to say?"

Jack cleared his throat. "I sent her a message. She knows."

A poor substitute for an actual call, or a visit. The thought of doing so had Gabriel sucking in air through his teeth, his chest going tight; it wasn't something any friend of the family wanted to have to do. But he'd do it for Ana. For Fareeha. They deserved that much. "I used to think you were better than this, Morrison," he said. "Dunno why I'm surprised anymore."

"You were the only one who thought I was any good to begin with," Jack murmured.

"Hah." No. He'd had the whole world fooled for a while. Even Gabriel. "You're a real piece of work, y'know that?"

"So they tell me." Bowing his head, Jack was the picture of a broken man when he spoke again, voice soft; "Are we done?"

Gabriel had to fight to suppress the part of him that wanted to give Jack comfort. The bastard didn't deserve it. "You tell me, Morrison."

"I want--" Jack choked on his words, had to pause before he could continue, "I want to fix this. I want to fix everything. Us, Overwatch..." His voice cracked. "I don't-- I'm not sure I can do it on my own."

"You wanna fix this?" Gabriel saw him nod. "Then leave. Get the fuck out while you still can. Overwatch doesn't have to take you with it when it dies. The act of trying to save it is poisoning you."

Jack bubbled up with a hysterical laugh. "And then what? You take over? Put it back together again?"

"No." Even Gabriel couldn't save Overwatch. "We both leave."

"That's insane."

" _We're_ insane," Gabriel pointed out. "Morrison. Jack. Listen to me. We don't need Overwatch. We never did." He placed his hands flat on the polished mahogany of Jack's desk, leaning over it. "We strike out on our own - maybe with the rest of the old guard, if they're willing - and we hunt down whatever this thing is, whatever's killing our people. Just us. No red tape, no waiting for approval."

"No accountability," Jack said. "I can't get behind something like that. It sounds too much like exactly the kind of thing we're trying to fight."

"And the shit that's going on now is any better?"

"It will be if we can fix it."

"We can't fix this. _I_ can't fix this, no matter what you think." The faint sound of a hitch in Jack's breathing told Gabriel he'd struck a chord again; he sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

He watched as Jack went from parade rest to shrinking in on himself, arms moving to fold in front of his chest with a miserable slump to his shoulders. "I'm sorry too," he said quietly. Then, "I miss her."

"Me too," Gabriel agreed, solemn and soft.

"And I'm sorry about Jesse," Jack continued, "for what it's worth. I know how important he was to you."

Gabriel swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. "He's a smart kid. He can take care of himself."

"Yeah." It left an ache in Gabriel's chest to know that Jack still understood what he meant without him having to spell things out. That they still knew each other that well, cared that much. When had it all gone so wrong? "Tell him if anything goes wrong, he's always welcome to come home."

Home. For someone like McCree, who put more stock in people than places, that was a pretty apt description. But Gabriel knew that McCree was far too proud to take them up on any such offer. A good kid who loved his found-family too much to want to impose, and was too damned independent to ask for help even in the worst situations.

God, Gabriel was proud of the kid. He'd done so much, come so far from where he'd been with Deadlock. He'd do fine on his own, Gabriel was sure of it. The biggest damn success story Blackwatch ever had.

Taking in a steadying breath, the commander of Blackwatch squeezed his eyes shut when they started to burn with wetness. No time for that, not yet. He stood up straight, backing away from Jack's desk. His voice was rough when he got around to using it. "Well," he said, "call me if anything comes up."

Jack's fingers dug into his arm through his sleeve; Gabriel saw him nod slowly, the only sign he'd heard. "Dismissed, Reyes."

Gabriel didn't even bother trying to have the last word.

 


End file.
